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Dropping down to my knees right there in the middle of the goddamn sidewalk outside the doctor’s office, I lost what little hope I’d been clinging to since that dreadful day when we first were told of our son’s diagnosis.
I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe.
All I could do was fuckin’ sob, but that still didn’t take away the ache in my chest.
I knew going in what I was going to hear today. I’d honestly have been more surprised if I’d heard something else, but still, there is no preparing for this kind of news. The confirmation that my son was going to die—and soon—was a tough pill to swallow.
I drew in a shaky breath. One. Two. Three. Four.
I needed to get home.
“You want to go get a drink?” Tyler asked, looking at me like I was about to lose it.
Hell, maybe I was.
I got up off my knees, not bothering to dust myself off, and shook my head. “No. I want to go home to my kid.”
***
“Daddy?” Matias, my little boy, asked.
I looked down at him, unsure how to deal with what I was feeling.
“Yeah, bud?” I rumbled, feeling the choking sensation of tears once again in my throat.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I felt like a fraud.
Here was my dying son, and he was asking me if I was okay.
“Yeah, Ty-Ty,” I croaked. “I’m okay…are you in any pain?”
Matias’ eyes closed. “A little.”
Remembering the doctor’s earlier words about how he was likely in extreme pain, but probably trying to hide it, made me want to vomit.
“Are you sure?” I asked carefully. “You know you don’t ever have to be brave for me, don’t you? I’m your dad. If you need to tell me something, anything, I’m here to listen. Whatever you want to tell me.”
Matias smiled, his eyes returning to the television.
While he watched Hiccup, I watched him, wondering how I could ever go on with my life without him.
“It hurts a lot, Daddy,” came Matias’ whispered reply a few minutes later.
I heard someone suck in their breath, and realized it was me.
“It does?” I licked my dry lips. “Ty-Ty,” I said, waiting for him to look up at me. “I know that you wanted to fight…but I think it’s time for me to do the fighting for you, okay?”
The relief on my kid’s face made me feel like an utter failure.
Six months ago, when this had all started, I’d told him he had to fight for me.
And he had. My little boy had fought so hard. So. Fucking. Hard.
But now his time to fight was up.
“I don’t want you to be sad,” he murmured softly, sounding lost and alone.
I pulled him up so that he rested in the cradle of my arms.
“Do you know that four years ago when you were born, you fit so perfectly in my arms that I knew that you were made for me to hold? To love? To protect?” I asked.
He smiled, and I felt his breathing hitch against my neck as he said what he said next. “I want you to have another little boy who can run and play…who you can teach to catch a football.”
I didn’t realize that I was crying until the tears met my lips and I tasted them on my tongue.
“Yeah?” I barely contained the moan.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I want you to.”
I’d never have another kid for the rest of my life. Matias was it for me.
“I’ll see what I can do, buddy,” I lied. “I have to find myself a woman to have one with, first.”
“Izzy,” he whispered. “Izzy will have one with you.”
I made a sound in my throat. “I don’t know, bud. Izzy already has four jobs…there’s no way that she’d have time for me.”
“She’d make time for you,” he murmured sleepily. “She promised.”
When Matias finally fell asleep, I felt what was left of my heart shatter into a million pieces.
He was wrong.
Even if Izzy did make time for me, I was broken and would be for the rest of my life.Chapter 5Why do I bother putting a potato masher in the drawer? Is it just because I enjoy torturing myself as I try in vain to open the drawer?
-Izzy’s secret thoughts?
Isadora
I’d been crying for hours.
I’d intended to leave right along with Tyler, Rome’s best friend, and Reagan but once I’d gotten all the way to the end of Rome’s street, I’d turned around and walked back.
I stared at his home for hours, thinking about the beautiful little boy it housed, and then I’d walked around aimlessly for what felt like forever.
It was only after I’d gotten to my Abuela’s house that I realized what I was looking for.
Knocking on her door at six that evening wasn’t something I usually did…but I knew she’d be awake.
She owned a bakery which was attached to her house. She was up every morning baking cookies, cakes, breads, and other goodies for the crowd of people that would rush into her place looking for their fix. She would do prep work in the early evening and be in bed by eight.
